Songs and Sorrows
by ProbableImpossibilities
Summary: This follows Ophelia as she tries to deal with Polonius' death. During her walk to the pond, her feelings reveal themselves. Please review!


**Author's Note: I wrote this for a school project. I just thought it was pretty good, so I might as well put it up here. Your feedback and reviews are always appreciated!**

Ophelia walked slowly towards her wardrobe, gently opened the door, and selected a winter cloak, even though it was summertime and was quite warm outside. She then proceeded to walk slowly and purposefully towards the castle gate, as though in a trance. The guards she passed on her way outside noted that she seemed to be staring at something beyond the gates, something only she could see. There was a distinctive sorrow to Ophelia's expression, but that was only to be expected; after all, she had just lost her father to her lover's sword. She had been grieving for days.

Once she had exited the castle, Ophelia began to feel slight pangs of fear, but she easily dismissed them. She could barely feel anything anymore; her extraordinary amount of pain had left her feeling empty and uncaring. As she walked slowly along the path to the lake, Ophelia allowed herself to reflect back upon the recent events that had left her in such a shambles. When Hamlet had first started visiting her, she had felt very little affections of the romantic type; she was simply pleased that he took the time to come see her. After all, he was the prince, and therefore had very little time to himself. But as they got to know each other, she began to feel something for him that extended beyond simple friendship. Ophelia had to admit, she had loved him; so much so that her father's rebuke on the fact that she was being too trusting fell on deaf ears. She had loved Hamlet much, much more deeply than she had let on. The prince was everything to her. Then, all of that changed, suddenly and violently, sending her reeling from the shock.

Ophelia was so engrossed in her thoughts, that she did not see the stone extending up out of the dirt path until it was too late. Her foot caught on the tip of the stone, sending her flying. As she lay sprawled on the ground, Ophelia realized she had absolutely no motivation to get up. She could simply lay there and sleep, sleep and never awake. But she would surely be found and taken back inside, not allowed to complete her task. Slowly and grudgingly, Ophelia returned to her feet and resumed her walking, along with her thoughts.

Polonius, Ophelia's father, had decided to test Hamlet's love for her. He had hidden behind a tapestry while she and Hamlet had talked, supposedly alone. However, he had not found whether Hamlet loved Ophelia or not; Polonius had discovered that the prince had gone mad. As Ophelia talked to him, her heart was slowly shorn in two. All sense of reason had gone, leaving her love a raving lunatic whose mind was obviously in shambles. Ophelia had never felt so heartbroken in her entire life. In her mind, he had died; Hamlet was no more, nor would ever be again. Then, even more terrible tragedy had struck, quickly and without mercy, cutting straight through to her heart.

Hamlet, in a fit of hysteria, had deeply upset his mother, the Queen. So, she had called him into her chambers to talk. Polonius, fearful of Hamlet's current state, had once again hidden behind a tapestry in the Queen's chambers. Suddenly, as they were talking, Polonius coughed, making Hamlet aware of his presence. Enraged, the prince uttered something about a rat, turned, and slew him! When Ophelia received the news of her father's death, she had gone immediately to her chambers. There, secreted underneath a cushion, she had placed a knife. Her sorrow was so great that she planned on killing herself that very night. But her brother had restrained her and confiscated the knife, reminding her that if she took her own life she would never see heaven. But quite frankly, Ophelia did not care about heaven. In fact, she almost wanted to be thrown into the Lake of Sulfur. At least she would have multitudes of souls to share her unending suffering with. Now, she just felt alone, like a dishonest wretch who has been thrown out in the street to wallow in shame. She felt hollow, and empty, like an eggshell that has been sucked dry of the precious life inside and left empty and worthless. At least there was one good thing about being useless; no one would miss her. Ophelia looked up and stopped, surprised. She was almost in the pond; her feet stood on the very edge of the bank. Suddenly, a wave of intense emotion swept over her, and she began to weep; however, the tears she shed were not for herself. They were for her father and her brother… and Hamlet. Although he had torn everything away from her, Ophelia still loved him. Her only regret was to leave him alone with his sorrows; she wished she could tell him that she still loved him, and that he should not cry for her. Whatever happens, all men must die. Ophelia put her foot over the edge of the bank into the water and began to wade towards the center of the pond. As she did so, she began to sing. She sung softly at first, but as she made her way closer to the middle of the pond, her voice grew and grew, until she felt as if she was pouring her shattered soul into her song. Once she reached the center, Ophelia took one last look around, savoring the birds, the flowers, the graceful willow tree; all the things she would never see again. Then, she took a breath, and fell backwards into the water. As she looked up at the sky through the shifting surface of the pond, she began to grow faint, darkness creeping along the edges of her vision. _I'll always love you, Hamlet_, she thought. Then, Ophelia opened her mouth and let the water rush into her lungs.

A man was walking along the dirt path to the castle and was passing the pond when he thought he heard singing. He stopped for a moment; then, hearing a splash and the singing silenced, he rushed towards the pond. When he reached the bank, he saw a piece of what seemed to be white fabric floating in the center of the pond. Slowly, the object floated towards where he was standing, as if it wanted him to fish it out. The man picked up a stick and attempted to fish the object out of the murky water, but it was simply too heavy for him to pull up. So, he waded out to where the object was, and grasped it. What he grasped was not a piece of cloth; the man's hand had wrapped around the finger of a young girl. Horrified, he released his hold on the corpse, and a face floated up to the surface of the water. Although it was obvious she was dead, she was smiling, and seemed almost to be asleep. The man realized that this was the source of the singing, pulled the body out of the pond, and took it with him to the castle to be identified. As he was leaving, a faint voice could be heard over the center of the pond, singing.

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me;

I once was lost,

But now am found,

Was blind, but now, I see…"


End file.
